


The Blowfish That Kills

by ToDryHerEyes



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, I Love You, Inspired By The Simpsons, Internal Monologue, Long-Term Relationship(s), Loss of Parent(s), POV Female Character, Parent-Child Relationship, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24072871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToDryHerEyes/pseuds/ToDryHerEyes
Summary: *Alternate ending to episode, 'One Fish, Two Fish, Blowfish, Blue Fish'*When Lisa suggests the family should try something new on Meatloaf night, they pay a visit to a local sushi restaurant. Although the night was originally going well and the family was enjoying this new way of life, they receive news that Homer's meal was potentially poisonous. Once told the news of Homer's 24-hour life sentence, he decides to spend his last day living life to his fullest. Meanwhile, Marge battles with grief and the eventual death of her high school sweetheart and the father of her three children.
Relationships: Homer Simpson/Marge Simpson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	The Blowfish That Kills

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I have been working on a second one-shot for my return-from-hiatus and here it is! I've thought about this idea every so often for about a year and a half or so now, and I've just now put it in the works. I'm so excited to introduce this, and may I just say, I love writing internal monologues. This is based off the Season 2, episode 11: One Fish, Two Fish, Blowfish, Bluefish, aka one of my favorite Simpson's episode. It's just something I'm fiddling around with and if you don't like it(or if you do), let me know! P.S, this will be based on Marge's POV, and then it will show her mindset after the 24-hour period has passed. I pretty much showcase the 'whole' episode in Marge's thoughts, except I skip any parts where, 1) Marge isn't shown in the scene, so obviously any karaoke, kitchen, jail, bar, etc scenes will not be shown, 2) Ones that don't have much relevance to Marge's mindset nor move the story along too much. This also includes a couple of short, I Married Marge scenes as flashbacks. The last three quarters of the one-shot is no longer canon and is purely from my own ideas. The monthly updates are supposed to just be short snipets/summary-like stories, so I never let them drag too long. This episode had me sobbing a storm the first few times I watched it and I never forgot it. Although I just recently saw the scene where he tells off Mr. Burns(which was on his list). I guess that was one of the scenes that was deleted on TV but apparent elsewhere. Also, don't hate me for Luis, I always have to include one of 'him' in these types of stories, but there's always a point. Here we go.

_If I could turn back to time to that day..._

* * *

Month 1

_Bing!_

"Get it while it's unbelievably hot, kids!" With excitement, the kids come rushing downstairs, antsy for a bite of the weekly Thursday-Meatloaf. Even my sweet, little Maggie hops into her seat.

My husband, especially, is over-the-moon for my daily-dinners. "I got a dried-out piece of end meat with your name on it, Lisa!" He shouts, holding a fork with the meat stabbed into it in front of Lisa, hoping she'll share the same excitement.

To our surprise, she is unfazed and instead sighs at the warm meal placed in front of her. "Thursday- Meatloaf night. As it was, is now, and ever shall be."

My husband, now confused and slightly irritable, questions her. "What are you getting at?"

"Well," She begins, "You're always trying to teach me to be open-minded, try new things, live life to-"

Her attention falls from her words and onto Bart passing her the ketchup to hand over to my husband, leaving him to believe she has finished speaking. "What are you talking about? Nobody's trying to teach you that."

While I love the homely, comfortable feeling of sitting down with the family and a home-cooked meal every night, as it's a time we put aside our typical disagreements and our troubles and just enjoy what life has offered us, Lisa has her points sometimes. Besides, I think all she wants to be is heard, and this could be my break away from the stove. I'm sure Homer can live without my pork chops for a week or so. "Well, maybe Lisa's right," I voice, hoping to get the idea into Homie's head. Tomorrow night, it might be nice to go out for dinner-"

"Tomorrow night?? Friday?! Pork Chop night?!" Homer spouts, baffled. "Marge! We haven't missed Pork Chop night since the great pig scare in '87!"

Lisa sighs once again, "Friday- Pork Chop night. From cradle to grave, etched in stone, in God's library somewhere up in heav-"

Fed up, Homer ‘gives in’ to his eldest daughter’s request. "Okay, okay, okay, okay- where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but hamburgers, pizza, or fried chicken!" Lisa snaps back, sensing the annoyance in her father's tone.

"Fine! We'll go to Mars!" He shouts sarcastically, raising his arms dramatically to the air.

"Hm, there's that new sushi restaurant on Elm Street," I suggest, hoping to quiet the two bickerers and return to a nice, family dinner.

Bart, who has surprisingly been calm and more focused on his meal rather than the conversation, steps in. "Sushi? Hey, maybe this is just one of those things you hear on the playground, but isn't that raw fish?"

"As usual, the playground has the facts right, but missed the point entirely!" Lisa calls out, leading Bart to return to his meal. "Sushi is considered quite a delicacy."

"Please, Homer, can't we try it?" I beg.

"No!"

"Please, Dad, this argument humiliates us both!"

"If I said no the first time, what makes you think I'm gonna say yes the second time?"

"Nothing, but you may say yes the 99th time," Lisa teases with a smirk.

"Oh? Try me!"

"Please Dad."

"No!"

"Please Dad."

"No!"

"Please, Dad, Please Dad!"

"No! No!"

"Please Dad, Please Dad!"

"No, No, No! Oh, okay, okay..." Homer gives in, earning a giggle from his determined daughter.

The next evening, we arrive at the aforementioned sushi restaurant: ' _The Happy Sumo.' What a cute name._ We are taken by a hostess to a table set on the floor for seating. Flooded with anticipation, Lisa and I simply order the supposed non-threatening sushi surprise our waiter, Akira, swears by, while my son takes a leap of faith and orders an octopus, an eel, and two sharks. Unsurprisingly, my husband, who pretty much eats whatever we place in front of him, orders anything he points his finger at. _I really hope the check isn't too bad,_ I wonder to myself, frowning a bit once we've all wrapped up our orders. _Oh, who am I kidding?_ Akira takes our orders and returns back with our food within the next ten minutes.

In contradiction to yesterday's harrowing debate, when we receive our dinner plates, Lisa stares directly at her meal, not taking much action to enjoy or make use of the food presented to her. On the contrary, Homer takes a sip of his Duff drink and begins to taste everything on his plate with 'open-mindedness'. "Mmm, not bad," He mutters, continuously take one bite after another while tapping his fingers rapidly on the table. "Interesting. Let's try this little pink one over here. And another one. Oh, boy- this fish is delish!" I giggle to myself at my husband's miraculous transition from hate to acceptance in less than 24 hours.

A while later, I have nearly ate my entire meal to its ends when Homer called Akira over to order more food. "Oh, ooh! Two of these!" He screeches, pointing his finger on every possible location on the menu. "I don't believe I've tried the flying fish roll." Although our kids have gone and went to that karaoke room down the hall, I'm hanging around with the baby and hoping I can have some control of what my husband eats to protect our check. "Oh, there's gotta be something I haven't tried! What's this? Fugu?"

Suddenly, Akira gasps audibly, stepping backwards in shock at my husband's request. "I-it is b-blowfish, sir. But, I should warn you that one-"

Homer, impatient and for some reason hungry for some fugu, interrupts the poor waiter's warning. "Come on, pal, fugu me!" In response to Homer's demand, Akira raises his hands to his temples, as if he was bearing some sort of fear. Rather than address it, Homer and I continued on with our meals and wait for Akira to return with the finale.

After some daunting amount of time later, Akira and one of the chefs have arrived with plate of the fear-provoking fugu. They appear nervous and are awaiting my husband's reaction to the meal. Blissfully for them, Homer seems to have enjoyed the fugu, as he licks his fingers and remarks, "Fan-fugu-tastic!" leaving a relieved and proud smile on Akira and the chef's face. After that confusing chain of events, the two leave us to enjoy our dinner. From out of the blue, we hear screaming coming from the kitchen area. We turn our heads to where the source appears and see the two formerly mentioned employees and someone who appears to be a head chef. They are, however, speaking in their native tongue, so Homer and I just assume they're conversing as normal. "Beautiful language, isn't it Marge?"

We are startled once the group runs over to our table, with the younger chef demanding Homer to not, 'eat another bite.' "Oh, I couldn't possibly!" Homer replies with a beam, unaware of any turmoil that is potentially present.

"Mr. Simpson, sir, I shall be blunt," The young chef begins, raising my stress levels. "We have reason to believe you have eaten...poison!"

"Poison?! Wha- What should I do? What should I do?! Tell me quick!" Homer rushes himself off the floor and towards the group in panic. 

"Oh, no need to panic!" There's a map to the hospital on the back of this menu!" The chef flashes the menu in our faces.

After some time, the ambulance comes and picks us up to give us a ride to the hospital. The roaring, ear-piercing sirens were enough to shake me out of my wits. At this point, I was used to Homer taking the occasional trip to the hospital. Maybe he had a heart or general medical problem, or he fell in the Springfield Gorge, or sustained some sort of injury, but he always bounced back and always came back home with his family. I shouldn't be scared, right? Everything's going to be alright as long as I keep telling myself so.

I'm standing out in the hallway when Dr. Hibbert approaches me, bearing a look of agony and grief. He hasn't spoken yet, but his slow pace and distressed expression are enough to make my heart drop. After the next few minutes, I walk into the his hospital room where I catch him mumbling something incoherent to himself. He stops when we enter the room, however, and now looks expectantly at us. _How could I break his little heart like this? I shouldn't have to explain something like this to not only my husband, but my kids. I shouldn't ever._ "Uh, your wife agreed that I should break this to you."

Homer interrupts Dr. Hibbert, "No need, doc- I can read Marge like a book." He gazes into my grief-ridden eyes as I groan, my heart jumping rapidly at his next possible reaction. "Ooh! It's good news, isn't it?!" _Oh, my God._

"No, Mr. Simpson." My husband's face falls and the doctor continues, "If you, in fact, consumed the venom of this blowfish- and from what the chef has told me, it is quite probable-" Dr. Hibbert creates a striking pause, before continuing once more, "You have 24 hours to live."

"24 hours!" He spouts in shock, jumping up from his bedpan.

"Well, 22- sorry I kept you waiting for so long," Dr. Hibbert adds, which we ignore.

"Oh, Marge," Homer walks towards me, and we grab each other's shoulders, tears rushing violently down our cheeks. "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die." We wrap each other's arms around one another and just hold each other desperately, as we know we didn't have any other times to be able to feel the pressure of our bodies on one another- and that scared me.

Later tonight, we're laying in the bed and I'm once again sobbing my eyes out when Homer says jokingly, "Hello, Marge, I'm the one who's dying not you."

He gazes back at me with a look of affliction when I hold off on my crying to ask him, "Have you thought about what we're going to tell the kids?"

"Nothing. It'll just upset them. I want my last hours of family life to be happy ones."

Although I don't fully agree with his decision, I understand his love for his children and the need he possesses to protect them from all bad. He doesn't want to break their little innocent hearts. Despite the kids' occasional trouble-making behavior, they are truly good kids in their hearts and don't deserve a second of incoming heartbreak and pain, and especially aren't deserving of losing their only father at the young, happy ages of eight and ten. "Well, have you decided what you wanna do tomorrow?" 

"Almost." He turns the notepad he has been scribbling in for the past ten minutes towards me, which shows a long bucket list of things to do. 

"Oh, good," I comment as I eye the list handed to me. "Aww," I mutter, placing my head on his chest and wrapping my arms around his shoulder as I look at the 12th and final one- 'A final dinner with my beloved family.'

"Oh, uh- I, um, I'm not done yet, Marge." I gaze upwards at him, confused. "What's that word that you use for when you and I- you know-"

"When we're intimate?" I suggest, which he nods in approval and writes on the notepad. "Aww..." I mutter once again once I see the written words. "Can I just make one suggestion?" I request, gazing into his curious eyes with pleading ones. "Can we get up early and watch the sunrise together?"

"Aw...watch the sunrise." He leans in and plants a passionate, lengthy kiss on my lips. "Till six AM, my dearest darling. And my last day on Earth." We wrap our arms around each other and bid a sweet good night before shutting off the lamp.

11:30 during the next morning comes, and I had prepared a breakfast meal for the kids and Homer, and we're all seated, with lots of hustle-and-bustle surrounding the atmosphere. Although Homer doesn't look too happy despite the donuts- aka his favorite snack- that are placed in front of him. "Marge! Why did you let me sleep so late?" He confronts, taking a furious bite from his piece of toast.

I shrug casually in response, failing to see much wrong with the situation. "Well, you looked so peaceful lying there."

"There'll be plenty of time for that!" He erupts. "I've got tons of important stuff to do! Bart, Bart!" He storms off from the kitchen and to our son's room, who is eating his cereal in his room. Guess I'll be eating breakfast alone. I sigh and continue my meal as the next two hours are filled with endless jibber-jabber from upstairs, along with some stomping and the sounds of Lisa's saxophone. Although I feel some guilt over letting him oversleep for over five extra hours, he's still spending his day making amends and giving his leave-takings to his friends and his father. I figure writing a sweet, romantic poem for him to come home to would lighten the situation(although nothing truly could), so I did just that. Over the next few hours, I heavily prepare for our last dinner as a full family, lighting candles and having the kids dress in their best, most formal outfits. I leave a few fancy cups and silverware I've never really use just so he can feel as if his last hours were spent with precision and care.

Once everything is all set up, I wait by the window and stare out, awaiting his presence as I tap my wall nervously with my fingertips. "Why are we all dressed up?" Bart asks as he swings his little legs under the table, bored and confused about everything set up in front of him.

"Because sometimes it's fun to dress up for dinner," I reply, inattentive to my immediate surroundings and unsure on how to really answer his question without revealing anything.

"Why are we using the good china?" Lisa follows suit.

"Because sometimes it's fun to use the good china."

"What's with the candles?" Bart questions once more.

"Sometimes it's fun to use candles."

"Why are we waiting for Dad?" Lisa asks me once again, this time receiving my attention.

"Because we love your father and enjoy his company!" I snap softly, my voice breaking with each word spoken.

"Why are we really waiting for Dad?" Bart asks with suspicion. I feel my heart break. I don't know what to do at this moment, so I turn my head towards the window and continue to stay silent. It kills me to stay like this, but I have to stay strong- for my kids.

Eventually, I give up and wrap up the dinner table after I fed them their dinner meals and got them to go wash up for bed. I sat on the living room couch, playing quietly with an excited Maggie in my arms as the kids play checkers on the carpet floor with the cat pawing at the board. I decided to let them linger around a little longer in hopes their father would arrive shortly for their last sight of him. "Oh, where could he be?" I mumble with a frown.

"Marge! Marge!"

I jump at the sounds of sudden and intense pounding on the window by my front door and turn towards the source of the startling noise. I gasp and the children and I run towards the front door. "Homer!"

I open my mouth to ask about his whereabouts, but I'm shushed when he grabs me by the shoulders and answers for me with, "There's no time to explain!" He rushes towards each child, gives them a kiss and tell them he loves them before rushing up the stairs and into our bedroom with a grasp on my arm. 

In a frisky and excited manner, we rip off all our clothes with heated passion and he pushes me onto the bed, holding me down. We throw the covers over our trembling bodies and he gazes into my eyes before starting anything. "Marge?"

"Yes, Homie?" I ask, chest heaving with every quick breath.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

An hour into the night passes and Homer stands in the bathroom with the door open, cleaning up as I pull out the poem I had written for him earlier today. "I wrote you poem today, Homie. It's called, 'To a Husband.'"

"Okay, okay," He brushes off, rushing next to me in the bed while tapping his fingers on the covers.

I clear my throat and begin, "The blackened clouds are forming."

"Oh, give me a break, Marge," He says with anxious movements.

"Soon the rain will fall. My dear one is departing, but first, please heed this call, that always will I love you, my one, my love, my all."

He looks at me with a look of pain hidden in his eyes. "That was beautiful, Marge."

He grabs my arm and slides his hand into mines, pulling me in and placing a slow kiss onto my lips. The rest of the night is filled with the warmth of his final touch, right before we shut out eyes and let the night take us into deep slumber.

The next morning, I open my eyes to the sight of an empty spot on the bed. I turn towards my alarm clock and see it's seven AM. The memories of yesterday immediately come flooding in. "Homer?" I gasp at the thought of what might have happened. "Homer?!" I quickly rush downstairs where I see no sign of him in the kitchen nor the living room, until I enter the entrance room and notice arms flaying on the side of the chair by the window. "Oh, Homer...Homer..." I kneel in front of him as tears run down my cheek, and I rest my head on his lap. I place two fingers over his neck and feel nothing- absolutely nothing. _No, no, no, oh, dear, no. What am I going to do?_ I don't have a job, the kids are going to be heartbroken, and I've lost a lover.

I don't know what to do.

* * *

_I would do it in an instant._

About a week after the harrowing incident, we planned a community-funded funeral service for him. It didn't take too long considering all the help that was pitched in by our townmates. The town gave some nice gestures, especially today, despite our differences in the past. Homer's coworkers and friends are all here to attend, as well as my family(despite their tendency to treat him harshly). It's been exceptionally difficult to not lose my grip today, as I'm surrounded by just about everybody in town, and not to mention my own kids. 

Bart hasn't really spoken today. On a usual day, he would make jokes or socialize with someone in town. Not today, however, because today is a day no kid should experience. On a slightly less heartbreaking note, Lisa seems to be keeping her head up. That little girl, she loved her father with all her heart, and despite their occasion moments of disagreements and disputes, they bonded more than some would care to believe. She has been supporting me throughout this past week, and she's very outspoken about how she feels. She worries me, though- sometimes it's like she understands too damn much about the world.

The service is quite lengthy and labored. A shocking amount of people decided to stand up and speak about him today, including his best friend, Barney and his father. Some people teared up, some people laughed at the memories they hold of him, and others were so blanked out they couldn't even speak, all the while the organ guy played a song that sounds like a death theme. I was up not only next, but last, and I have to admit, I'm quite nervous. As if it wasn't grueling enough to keep it all in for three hours straight already, going up in front of nearly the whole town and speaking in a very delicate state with my family in the front seat is daunting just to imagine. I guess the easy solution is- don't imagine it.

"And now, his beloved wife and soulmate would like to come up and say a few words," The speaker announces with a faint smile, gesturing for me to step on the stage as the crowd replies with a small applause.

I slowly make my way to the funeral service stage and take the microphone from the speaker. "Yes, thank you, sir. Um, hello. My name is Marge Simpson. Mm, I'm sure most of you, if not all, already know that. Mmm, I think I went to high school with some of you. And then some of you kicked my husband out of your businesses. Sorry about that. Well, I guess I should talk now. Uh, Homie- Homer was someone very, very special to me. I've known him since I was a little girl- funny story, really. We thought we met and fell in love in high school, but it turns out we were secretly each other's first kiss when we were, like, ten in summer camp. We didn't realize until decades later. Mmm, I was pretty upset about it. Well, anyways, Homer was a...complex man. He had a million thoughts running through his mind all the time, and he always did something with them. He knew what he wanted, however, and always went for it. Each day contained a small victory for him. Mm, well, he just had a lot of passions, but his biggest passion was his family. He loved his children, and I'm sure he was looking forward to seeing them grow up one day and becoming something amazing," My lip quivers at my final, emotional words, my voice becoming much more raspy by the second.

"The thought of him never seeing his kids following their dreams, or never being able to walk his daughter down the aisle. It's all worthless- everything he worked for to see his kids succeed, the sacrifices he made- worthless, just worthless!" I feel warm, silent tears running down my reddened cheeks as a million memories rush furiously through my head. I turn around suddenly, facing the casket. "Why couldn't you have just stopped at one? Why did you eat that damn blowfish! How could you have left me alone!"

Next thing I know, I'm on my knees with my face in my hands as I violently sob. I feel a little hand resting on my back, and the comforting words from a broken voice, "You're not alone, mom."

I look up behind my shoulder and notice my ten-year-old son looking back at me, wearing a guilty frown. "Oh, Bart." I let out a sniffle, wiping my eyes as Lisa, who is holding Maggie, makes her way to the stage as well. I wrap my arms tightly around the three, not letting go for several moments- I fear losing them as well, but I know I'll have them for a long time coming. _I had to keep going, for these three little miracles. I had to._

"Mom," Lisa finally speaks. "You don't have to keep talking. We can have someone else talk or something, if it's too hard. I'm sure everyone will understand."

"Yeah, I think Moe was warming up another speech earlier," Bart adds.

"No, no, kids," I decline their offers, ushering for them to sit back down. "There's one more thing I have left to do." Walking back to the mic stand is a drag, as I feel judgmental eyes focused on my every move. I clear my throat before passing a packet towards the organ guy, in which he sends a nod back before hitting the first key. "This is a song that...we sang together a lot back when we were dating, and maybe a couple times after my beautiful son's birth."

"So many nights, I sit by my window, waiting for someone to sing me his song, so many dreams, I kept deep inside me- alone in the dark, but now you've come along," I feel tears crowding themselves in my eyes with each word I sang, and I can tell the audience felt the same. "You light up my days, and fill my nights with song."

"Rolling at sea, drift on the water. Could it be finally? I'm turning for home. Finally a chance to say, 'Hey- I love you.' Never again to be all alone. Cause you light up my life, you give me hope to carry on. You light up my days, and fill my nights with song. Cause you, you light up my life, you give me hope to carry on."

_"You light up my days, and fill my nights with song, it can't be wrong. When it feels so-"_

_"Good."_

_"Right."_

_"Riiight." I chuckled at his lyrical mistake, after which he grabbed my hand and intertwined it with his._

_"Cause youu," We sang._

_"You!"_

_"No, youuu," Homer joked._

_He planted a big kiss on my lips, and held me to his chest while he drove as if he never wanted to let go. "Our song," I whispered to him. Our song._

" _You light up my life,_ " While holding that final note, the people erupt in loud, emotional cheers. "Thank you."

* * *

Month 2

"Kids, get ready for the bus to come. Mommy has to go to work in ten minutes, and I would appreciate it if you didn't miss again and I have to be late again and drive you to school," I grab the kids' backpacks as they came rushing down in a hurry. "I'm already on a tight end with my boss and I would like to keep my job for as long as deemed possible."

"Aw, mom, why did you have to get a job there?" Bart asks me, disappointment written on his face.

"So we can keep this house and I can continue to feed us. The money the town raised for us isn't quite enough to live off for the rest of our lives," I explain. It wasn't preferred to have to explain something like this to the children, but it's the only way for them to understand that we aren't able to get everything we desire. "Now, come on. Shoo, shoo, the bus is here."

"Love you, Mom!" Lisa yells out quickly with a wave, which I return, and hops on to the bus with her older brother.

"Love you, too," I say to myself with a sigh as the bus drove away.

It was time to head to my job, unfortunately. Although there are a million other options to choose from as a job, those options didn't quite have the pay this one did. It's always my children's warfare over my own, and that's what's important. I make my way to my job with two minutes to spare, and I head to the backroom to set up my stuff.

"Morning, Simpson," My coworker calls out to me, slapping my back once she stands next to me. "I thought you'd be late again."

"Mmm, well- thank the Lord I'm here on time," I reply. "I just hope he leaves it alone this time around."

"Don't worry, toots. It'll all be worth it for your little ones. That's what keeps me going. Well, I better go clock in. See you later, hun." And with that, she leaves the room to myself.

When I first got this job, ol' Shannon was in a similar situation as me. Her husband left her(in this case, for a younger woman with no kids) and left her with her two kids without an income. It's nice to have someone who understands how you feel, and I think that's another thing that makes this job even more bearable. 

I get biweekly paychecks, and tonight, I'll be receiving my first check in the bank. Sitting at home and waiting for the money to show up probably isn't ideal, but there wasn't much else to do as the kids were asleep and they've already had their dinner. It wasn't even the actual money, it was just a check stub, but this way, I'm able to see how much I'm paid. I'm waiting on the couch near the door for the mail to pop into the hole, so much that I nearly fall asleep when I see it go through. Hurriedly, I skip to the door and grab the envelope with my name and company on it. "Okay, here I go..." _616.36$?!_ I let out an exasperated sigh, unsatisfied with my progress. _I need more hours._ There's no way I'll have enough to pay every bill in this house. _I just hope my boss will understand._

* * *

Month 3

After a couple of weeks of trying to raise my hours and switching shifts with my coworkers, I finally got to a stable point where my paychecks rose, and at some point I was earning overtime. I'm still not positive it will be enough for the house, but I guess this'll do for now. "Marge? Hello?"

"Huh?"

"Marge, I've been trying to get your attention for the past minute," My boss informs me. "Please, get back to work."

"Yes, sir." After that interaction, I make my way towards a few of my co-workers, who are grouped up and chatting. "Hello, everyone. How has business been?"

"Pretty slow," Shannon responds after passing me a donut from the box bought by one of the workers. "Everyone is more concerned with that shopping mall that opened back up yesterday after a month of repairs."

"Screw that place," Luis chimes in before taking a sip of his freshly-brewed coffee. "It wasn't even that great, anyways. There were different protests for that place every month."

"Yeah, well, some people forget how much they hate something until it's gone and comes back," Lin adds.

"I think he's gonna send a couple of us home for the night, and maybe it'll be like that for the next two weeks," Shannon suggests. She backtracks when she notes my worried expression, "But I'm sure it'll only affect one of our paychecks, and then everything will go back to normal."

"I sure hope so. Mm, I did look a little distracted earlier, he might send me home," I propose while rubbing my hands together.

"If that happens, just let me know and I'll let you take over for me," Luis offers with a smile.

"Well, that's very nice of you, Luis, but you don't have to do that. You earn money like I do, and I don't want to take that away."

"Alright, but let me know if you ever change your mind."

"You guys," Shannon steps in with a chuckle. "We don't even know if they're actually sending us home or no-"

"Marge Simpson," A knock is heard on the break room's door and we turn to find the assistant manager peeking her head through the crack of the door. "Boss says to pack up and go home, and to come back tomorrow. Business is slow." And with that, she walks off.

"You still sure about that?" I ask Shannon before grabbing my purse from the rack and taking a couple of donuts in a baggie. "I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow." My coworkers wave at me and I make my way back to my car.

I let out a disappointed sigh, resting my forehead on the steering wheel. _If they keep cutting hours like this, I probably won't make enough money to pay everything I need._ I drive back home and enter my home, where I note the kids on the couch, watching their favorite clown on TV. Maggie is asleep in Lisa's arms, and Lisa looks like she's about to pass out to sleep, and Bart seems excitedly awake. "Mom!" Bart screams at the top of his lungs when he notes my entrance. "You're home!"

This causes Lisa to jolt awake, and Maggie's eyes slowly open up, resulting in a whimper emitting itself from her mouth. "Mom, I thought you were coming home at 11 like always," She glanced at the clock nearby, which stated the time as, 7 PM.

"Yeah, me too," I remove my sweater and my purse and take a seat next to my son, curling up near the corner of the couch to rest. "Tomorrow's Monday, guys, you have school soon."

"Aw, come on, Ma', just a few more minutes?" Bart begs. I can't be bothered to argue against his pleads, so I simply wave my hand in his direction to signal dismissing his question and shut my eyes as I rest my cheek on my fist.

I feel a soft, furry blanket wrap itself over me, causing me to slightly open at my eyes to the sight of my oldest daughter placing a kiss on my forehead. "Good night, Mom," She whispers with a smile before she heads back next to her siblings, and I shut my eyes and prepare myself for a deep slumber.

* * *

Month 5

"Mom!"

"Mommm!"

"Huh?"

The kids are surrounding my person while I lay in my now-twin bed. It's an early Saturday afternoon, and I finally had a day off work. Rather than spending it lying in bed while the kids avoid their homework and watch Itchy and Scratchy reruns, my coworker, Luis, invited not only myself, but the kids out to the new(but temporary) carnival they put out in the town. He informed us that he had won four tickets while calling in at the radio station and he had no one else to take(except maybe his niece, but she decided against 'baby rides', he said). Although I haven't been feeling doing much- working feels like my only activity these past few months- I couldn't decline his very generous offer, especially considering I can no longer afford(time and money-wise) to regularly take my kids out for some 'fun' time like their daddy used to.

Besides, I know my kids much preferred Homer when it came to 'fun' things. But I can be fun, too, and hopefully me taking them out today will change their minds(temporarily, anyways). 

"Luis is here! We can go!"

"He's in the parking lot, he's about to come in!" I glance down at my kids and note their readiness to leave. They were fully dressed and jumping up and down on the floor. Meanwhile, I would need just a few extra minutes until I could even step out this bedroom door(well, add the bathroom door to that, too). "But what about Maggie?"

"We already dropped her off at Flanders'!" Bart shouts. "Now come on!"

"All by yourself?!" I interrogate with a panic.

"We biked there, it took fifteen minutes, tops! We're fine, Mom!" Lisa reassures me.

"Mmm." I suppose that rack on the bikes were to come in handy at some point. "Oh, kids, just give me a moment. Go let him in, talk to him or something while I get dressed," To my fortune, the kids oblige and walk towards the entrance room where they entertain Luis as I prepare myself. 

After I'm completely changed and prepared, I make my way down the hallway and into the living room where Luis and my three kids are hanging around. "Hello," I wave with an awkward smile, slowly stepping towards the couch to receive the hug Luis seemed prepared to offer.

"Good morning, Marge, rise and shine!" He greets with his Spanish accent. "Ready to go?"

"As always," I respond, not really understanding the meaning of my own words. We exit the door of our apartment that we had rented a couple of weeks ago after we sold Lisa's(and Bart's partially) lifelong home(until we get back on our feet), and he leads us out to his car, and eventually we arrive to the carnival.

"Are you kids ready to rumble?!" He bends down to my children's level and raises his hands into fists, beaming brightly as the kids returned the gesture.

"Yeah!!!" The kids screamed together. 

"Then let's go!" He pretends to run(really jogging) towards the ticket booth, showing the tickets for my family and himself. 

Within the next few hours, we're skipping around the carnival, joining our fellow townsmen and women on the rides. It's been months since I've seen either of my kids having this much, as I've stated before that I couldn't go out with them much. It's nice to see them be able to act as kids again. Our final destination, of course, is the famous Ferris wheel everyone has been raving about. Apparently it's one of the hugest in the state, and the seats are inside a private little area that's air-conditioned and comfy. Although I prefer to breathe the fresh, natural air from the evening sky around me, this is a nice step-up, and maybe a little change is fine every now and then. Plus, the kids seem excited to check it out, so we make our way towards the Ferris wheel, and after waiting our turn, we step inside and let the wheel take us around.

"Ooh," I voice, feeling the cold breeze from the vents hit my neck after I take a seat near the edge. "This is nice." I stare out the large windows surrounding the outer layer of the seating area, the darkening sky serving as a foil to the bright lights hanging above us. "It feels very futuristic in here," I giggle, placing my hand over my lips.

"Better than those crowded, outdoor ones that ensure us falling off the seats like always," Lisa replies, taking a seat next to me.

"It's cold," Bart states, wrapping his arms around his torso to warm himself up.

"Well, here you go, little guy," Luis pulls off his jacket and hands it to Bart, which he quickly accepts.

"Thanks, big man," Bart wrapped the coat around his shoulders, staring out the window at all the people waiting in line. "Whoa-oa, check it out."

"Mmm." I check out the long line of people that suddenly appeared. "Thank God we got here when we did. I didn't expect this many people."

"That's our luck, for sure," Bart amuses.

* * *

Month 8

"Bart! How could you do this?"

"It was an accident!"

I rub my eyes vigorously as my slumber is once again disturbed by my little ones. This time, however, is different; my kids were screaming and pulling at each other's hair. I got up quickly and headed to my daughter's room where the yelling is emitting from. "What's going on?"

"Bart stepped on my clay project! I've been working on it for days! It's a major part of my grade, and now I'm gonna fail because of Bart!"

"I didn't mean to! It's your fault for leaving it on this wobbly table! If you fail, it's because you weren't good at anything else in that class!"

"Now, kids-"

Lisa interrupts me to continue berating her brother, "You weren't even supposed to come into my room at all! Let alone touch anything in it! If you didn't go near my table, it wouldn't have wobbled and you wouldn't have stepped on it!"

"You always want to blame me for something, don't you?! Everything is always my fault! I already apologized, what more do you want for me?!"

"I want you to mean it!" Lisa cries, raising her voice at the top of her lungs.

"I do! I do mean it! I'm sorry I messed up your project, I'm sorry I messed up your grade- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Bart yells, waving his arms through the air.

Lisa calms down, although not any less angry than before. "I don't care anymore, Bart. I shouldn't expect anything less. You always ruin everything, anyways."

This seems to be a final straw for Bart by the look on his face. He scrunches up his face, attempting to prevent hurtful words to come out, but fails. "I always ruin everything?! Me?! I wasn't the one who suggested we go to a damn sushi restaurant! You couldn't be happy with eating pork-chops and meatloaf every night! This is your fault, it's all your fault!" Bart cries, taking a deep breath after his rant. "You should have left it alone, Lis."

Before Lisa or I could say anything in response, Bart storms out of his sister's room and into his own, and slams the door with all his might. "Bart!" I yell out with worry.

"He's right." I look down at my daughter, noting her reddened expression as she eyes her feet.

"Oh, honey, no," I get down on my knees and bring her face upwards, locking eyes with her. "Don't say that. It is not your fault, it's no one's fault. There were many preventable actions that could have been taken, but you had no involvement in that whatsoever. I mean, I was the one who suggested the sushi restaurant, anyways. Don't even think about blaming yourself," I explain, wiping the tears that are running freely from her eyes with my thumb. "You're brother is just...upset. He feels like a failure right now, but it's not his fault nor yours."

"I understand," She nods and wraps her arms around my neck, which I return.

"I need you two to stick together, even in the hardest of times. We didn't have enough time with your father, and I don't want that to happen with any of us," I plead. "Please promise me this."

"Okay," She nods. "I promise."

"Thank you, dear," I send her a sweet smile. "Now, don't worry about the project. I'll help you with it."

"Thanks, Mom."

* * *

Month 12

"You're very welcome," The waitress replies to my gratitude before walking away from our table with a pad and a paper.

"I'm very sad Shannon couldn't make it to dinner tonight," I say as I take a sip of the water given to me by the waitress a few seconds ago. "You said she had to meet with her sister?"

"Yes, that is correct," Luis clarifies, taking a sip of his own drink. "She said she would have loved to join us if it weren't for her sister's, uh, sever bunion."

"Oh, dear."

"Yes, well, how was your day?" He asks, placing his chin above his fist.

"Well, I had another weekly family session this afternoon with the kids. They seem to be getting along much more lately," I smile at my words, as the kids are promising to stick together- just as I'd hoped.

He stares at my smile, which causes him to smile right back. "That's good. You're truly an amazing mother, Marjourie."

"Well, thank you," I smile, flattered. I have to admit, I'm really slightly unsure of what to say. I was really expecting(and excited) for Shannon's appearance, only to be disappointed with the news. Luis is nice, however, so I decide to make the best out of tonight. I just miss seeing my friend.

A couple of hours of chattering and light laughter into the night later, we're already heading into the tipsy stage after a couple of cups of champagne(they were on the house). We shared a couple of stories about our pets and our schooldays, which was enlightening considering I've never really sat down and had these conversations this past year; it was nice.

However, things seem to take a turn once we made our way to the outside of the diner near the ledge by the waters. "Marge," He begins, "I think you're absolutely exquisite."

"Uh-huh?" I nod with a questioning tone in my voice, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, I've been having my eye on you for a while now. I mean, I've already met your family, and I took them out for a while. I was actually hoping that you and I could- take this to a higher level- but not to high, if that's not a comfortable choice for you," He blabbers on. Next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, but I felt nothing. An attractive, sweet guy's lips were on my own and I'm feeling nothing. I almost push him off to end it, but he already beats me to it. "Wow, Marjorie, you're beautiful," He whispers with a smile.

This makes my following words even more difficult to put out. "I'm sorry, Luis."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" His eyebrows furrow, and he tilts his head to side with his hand over my cheek.

"I don't think I can do this," I express, stepping back ever-so-slightly. "I'm so-" I pause, realizing the repetition in my words. "I'm not ready for something like this," I state honestly, hoping the flat-out truth is enough for him to understand. "You're amazing, and handsome, and sweet, and such a go- great _friend._ "

"Ahh," He mouths, taking his hands behind his back and away from me. "I see."

"Please don't think it's you. I just- I've only been with one man my whole life, and he was the love of my life, however complicated he was. He was _mine,_ and mine only, and I _loved_ him. You could give me all the rings and money possible in life and my heart will still beat for..."

" _Homer!" I shouted, moving closer towards my newlywed husband, who had obtained a job from the Gulp N' Blow to support our first and expecting baby. "Come home with me."_

_"No, Marge," He declined, turning away from me with a frown."I just can't. Just look at me! I'm a trainee; they won't even tell me what's in the secret sauce."And I can't even buy you a decent wedding ring." Homer pouted and avoided eye contact with me, which broke my heart._

_I rushed up behind him, grabbing his shoulders. "Any ring is fine as long as it's from you!"_

_I glanced down at his hands, where he held a small bag of onion rings. "Marge." He pulled out an onion, took my hand in his and smiled before slipping one on my finger. "Pour Vous."_

_"Aww." I stared lovingly into his big, beautiful eyes and thought about how lucky I was: lucky to find the one, the only for me."Do you mind if I took it off now? The oil is burning my finger," I joked with a smirk._

_"Oh, sure." I placed my burning finger in my mouth to cool off from the warm onion ring, which Homer threw into his own mouth. After a bit, I settled into my car and gave him a kiss goodbye. "You know why I married you?"_

_"Because I knocked you up?" He responded._

_"Because I love you," I smiled, and it was true- I'd never been in love before, and he was my first, and I wouldn't have let it go for a second. "Come home soon."_

"Uh-huh," He responds with a slightly annoyed tone. "But you do have to move on at some point, you do understand that, right? Someone who can financially and romantically support you in life, right?"

"Maybe. But not right now, and certainly not with you," I furiously turn my head towards the inside of the restaurant, but not until I leave a few final words for Luis. "I'm married. And I'm Mrs. Homer Simpson now, forever and always."

Later in the night, I sit on my bed in deep thought about the past twelve years I've lived. I've married, had three wonderful blessings, and I've lost. But if there was one thing Homer would have never done- was give up, or let go. He would have kept going- for Bart, for Lisa, and for Maggie. No matter how much I hurt, I have to keep my head up for my children. This was the life I was meant to live, and I'm content.

And nobody will ever take that away from me.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I appreciate any feedback, negative or positive, that you may have. I know this could have been better, but if I should be honest, I kinda just dived into this. I was tired of waiting on writing this idea and everything was planned as I wrote. The only thing I knew when I dived in was that this would be an alternate ending to one of my favorite episodes of the show of all-time. If I had planned more thoroughly(or, at all for that matter), I could have reached the full potential. This episode was just so sad and cute at the same time, as HoMarge is one of my favorite couples(despite the show butchering their relationship in the recent seasons). Especially when he is far from home that night and Barney is trying to fix his tire and Homer is really impatient to get home to his wife and kids, and he's like, 'fuck it' and yells, "Hold on, Marge, I'm coming home, baby!" Before running the wholeee way home(and that's a lot for Homer). And then his little goodbye kisses to the kids when they're asleep. Anyways, I'm done being emotional. Have a good day!
> 
> P.S.: That 'death theme' Marge said was playing during the talks? Death Theme by Ennio Morricone started playing so I decided to add that in, it's quite nice to hear. And I just had to include You Light Up My Life, that scene where they sang it together was so sweet.


End file.
